19. Lola

Lola

Humiliation, rage, and anger all rise within me at the same time, and I'm not sure which emotion to focus on first. I watch as Devon stands up out of his chair, making a bunch of noise, and the man sitting next to him—Percy, I think—also stands up from his chair and puts a hand on his shoulder, telling him to sit back down.

Devon does so slowly like he's in a room with a bunch of fragile explosives.

"Okay," I say, crossing my arms. I feel Penelope stiffen next to me. "I didn't realize the idea of fake dating me would be so repulsive to you."

"Fake dating?" Devon mutters.

"Yes! Fake dating! That's what we're talking about here."

"I have never heard of fake dating in my life," Devon replies.

"It's kind of self-explanatory. In the name!" I say in exasperation.

"Why in the world would I want to fake date a woman? I don't even date women for real. I'm not available."

"Oh, that's so annoying to hear from you. But also—you're asking why? These guys literally laid out why. People like you better when you're seen with me. Makes sense."

"That's a fluke. And I don't care what people think about me," Devon grouches.

"That's obvious, Chambers," I bite back.

Devon glares at me. "Oh, it's Chambers now, is it?"

"Would you prefer that I call you by your first name?" I scoff.

"Yes, actually."

"Okay, asshat—"

At that, Melissa shoots up from her seat, holding her arms out.

"Okay," she says placatingly, taking a deep breath and nodding at Penelope. "I'm sensing some tension in the room right now. Devon, I understand you have some reservations about this arrangement. In simple words, and with no profane language, can you communicate those?"

Devon's eyes meet mine across the table, and I desperately wish I knew what was happening inside his head. His stare is so intense that it feels like he's looking right through me, and I won't be surprised if he can read every emotion on my face. It's not fair. I'm at a disadvantage.

"It's a stupid idea," he finally says, ripping his eyes away from mine and looking at Melissa, who rolls her eyes at him.

"Fine," she says, "you want me to sweeten the deal?"

The two of them share a look so heavy with meaning that, for a horrifying moment, I think they might actually be together. Then, Melissa puts her hand on her chair, leans forward, and speaks very precisely.

"If you go through with this plan—and actually do it, meaning you put one hundred percent of your effort into it, meaning it's believable, meaning the Vipers benefit and Lola here benefits—then I guarantee you will get to hold that youth camp."

"The youth camp," Devon parrots, leaning back in his chair. His arms are still crossed, his body language completely closed off, but his face has softened the tiniest bit.

"Yes," Melissa says, "I will go to the board and make it clear that it's happening."

I look back and forth between them, trying to parse this out.

Devon wants to hold a youth camp? The idea of fake dating me is deathly appalling to him, but Melissa can sweeten the deal by giving him the chance to hold a hockey camp for kids?

"The youth camp," Devon says again, uncrossing his arms and leaning forward. "Here, in this arena, completely free to the attendees. And I get at least three guys from the team. Equipment provided, food provided."

"Yes—"

"And," Devon adds, holding his hand up, which makes Melissa roll her eyes again, "I get to choose the kids who come to the camp. No rich, asshole kids who can go to any professional camp with their parents' money."

"You're literally talking about children, Devon, so maybe you should cool it," Melissa says with an awkward laugh, glancing around the room before her eyes find him again. "But yes. Everything you want. You can even draw up the contract. But I'm serious about trying—no saying yes and going half-ass on this. If you fall short on a single expectation, all bets are off."

Devon takes a deep breath, leaning back in his chair and turning a pen over in his hand. He seems to be thinking it through, and everyone in the room stares at him, waiting to see what he will say.

I grind my teeth together, glaring at him from across the room. I wish he weren't so handsome. If he were uglier, he'd be easier to hate. But his hair falls across his forehead in just the right way, and his eyes are bright and intense. Staring at his hand and how he was turning the pen over and over reminded me of the things he did with those hands last night and how his long, strong fingers felt when they were inside me.

A shudder rolls through my body, and I wrap my arms around myself, pressing my lips together.

Maybe a fake dating scheme would be a bad idea, after all. If all I am to Devon is a one-night stand—in fact, one so forgettable that he just got up and left me in his apartment the next day, waiting for me to leave—maybe I'm doing myself a disservice by going along with this plan.

Because I'm still attracted to him. Really attracted to him. And if he worked our sexual tension out of his system last night and woke up this morning feeling fresh and new, it might actually break my heart.

Not that my heart has anything to do with what's happening here—it's just a metaphor for what it feels like when you think the sex was amazing and the other person leaves before you wake up the next morning.

"Okay," Devon says, dropping the pen on the table. "You guarantee I can do the youth camp, and I'll go through with this."

"With a hundred percent effort," Melissa reiterates, and Devon rolls his eyes, holding out his hand for her to shake. She takes it and pumps his hand hard, a challenge in her eyes.

"Yes," he says, finally, "full effort. You got it, coach."

"Alright!" Percy says with exuberance, addressing the rest of the room. He launches into logistics, talking about ironing out some of the details in the contract, but I tune him out.

Instead, I'm staring at Devon and trying to figure out what it is about me that makes him so adverse to the fake dating scheme. Or staying with me this morning rather than abandoning me.

But his gaze is fixed firmly on the table, and it doesn't move for the rest of the meeting.